


Examining Him

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Missing Scene, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, The Ambulance Scene, mild romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Molly had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to meet Sherlock at a certain time and place weeks before. Nevertheless, she now finds herself in an ambulance with a less than sober Sherlock Holmes...and this is what happened from point A to point B.





	Examining Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fangirlhani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlhani/gifts).



> (Previously posted on tumblr) Part of this plot occurred to me some weeks ago because I thought of my own HC as to why a couple of Molly's buttons were undone by end of the ambulance ride. But I was recently encouraged to actually make a one shot out of it by fangirlhani, and I'm glad that I did. :) This is my best guess for how things went down during what we didn't get to see on screen.

“Well done, Molly,” Sherlock announced in his inappropriately chipper voice. “You did remember my coat!”

Molly didn’t respond. She was still mulling a lot of words around in her mouth, unsure of exactly what should and shouldn’t come out yet after hearing what John said upon her arrival to meet their mutual friend. Instead, she called up to the ambulance driver in the front seat.

“Ok, Fred, we’re all set to go.”

“Where we goin?” Fred called back.

That was an excellent question. Molly looked to the slightly shabby, albeit annoyingly attractive, man lounging on the gurney for further instruction.

Sherlock called out an address to him, then pinched the bridge of his nose as he lay back against the pillows.

As the ambulance began to move, Molly got up from the bench and took out a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from one of the supply drawers. Sherlock threw off the dressing gown he’d been wearing and began unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up in preparation. He let out what sounded to her like a painful exhale, and that was what pushed her to finally speak freely as she took a seat on the edge of the gurney. 

“Ok, Sherlock, what’s going on?” she asked while positioning the stethoscope in her ears.

“Well...we’re currently on route to a filming studio, as I thought you just heard me-”

“No, Sherlock,” Molly stated more firmly as he sat up for her. “What’s going on with you. What is this? You’re not actually using again, are you?”

His gaze shifted away noticeably before meeting hers again and Molly’s heart sank and she shook her head.

“Sherlock…”

The jumpy detective leapt into another random topic.

“Molly, I do like that shirt you’re wearing,” he commented, pointing to the fabric. “Are those...sailboats?”

She glanced down momentarily, reminding herself of the outfit she’d put on while only half awake that morning.

“Oh um, yep, those are sailboats.”

“You know, as fetching as this shirt is on you, Molly, I really think the whole thing looks a bit too…” He gestured around a bit. “...buttoned up. I always leave my collar undone, really makes a world of difference, I highly recommend it.” 

And with that, he actually had the nerve to reach over with his always nimble fingers and undo the button in question at her neck, and also the one holding her cardigan together at her middle. He glanced at the adjustments and grinned, apparently pleased with the outcome.

“There...much improved.” 

Sherlock had no clue how fortunate he was that Molly clenched her jaw tightly and restrained herself from physically reacting to the unsolicited changes to her wardrobe. It took all her patience not to fist each side of his shirt and pull firmly in either direction, easily popping all the already straining buttons off the stupidly tight fabric before loudly parroting “much improved” in his face.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, happily returning to whatever topic he preferred. “Speaking of sailboats, did I ever tell you I wanted to be a pirate?”

Molly wrapped the blood pressure cuff firmly around his noticeably thinner arm. “Don’t think you did,” she responded flatly.

“What do you think about that career choice? As a possible alternative to being a consulting detective. Or perhaps just when crime is slow! What a thrilling side job that would be!”

Molly let out a little sigh as she took his elevated blood pressure and mumbled a response, mostly to herself. “Fitting, since as you seem to be recklessly looking for thrills right now.”

“Oh, Molly, you worry too much,” he replied flippantly to her concern. 

“Am I supposed to not worry about you?” she question in frustration. “When you’re making a mess of your life like this.”

“This is all for a-”

“Don’t you dare think a case excuses this again!”

“A specific purpose, I was going to say,” Sherlock finished with a wag of his head, though that was hardly a satisfying answer either.

“Not good enough,” Molly replied softly as she set the cuff and stethoscope down. She picked up his hand and felt his pulse at his wrist, listening specifically for irregularities.

“Is it elevated?” he questioned in a suddenly low whisper. “My pulse.”

Molly’s eyes jumped to meet his and she was a little taken aback to notice his rather wolfish gaze.

“Not surprisingly, yes,” she answered as evenly as possible. 

“Mm, not surprisingly,” he agreed matter-of-factly. “Especially with you being...this close.”

Molly frowned at him then. “A-are you actually...coming onto me right now?”

Sherlock’s somewhat glassy eyes didn’t leave hers as he gave her a flirty little smirk in confirmation. Before she could question further though, he spoke again. Words that, in that setting and circumstance, made her blood absolutely boil.

“And what would you like to do about it if I was?” he purred, leaning in a bit closer. 

That did it.

Molly shot up from where she sat next to him, crossing her arms angrily and glaring down at him so hard that even in his addled state, she could see the recognition flash in his eyes.

“What is the matter with you?” Molly growled through clenched teeth. “I don’t care if you are high, you still have a brain, and probably more of a brain than most people would in your state! Honestly, what can you possibly be thinking? Is it not enough that you’re dragging your body and mind and life through this torment? But on top of all that, now you decide it’s a perfectly good time to _flirt with me_?! Here and now? In the back of this bloody ambulance _while you're high_?!”

“You need me to stop, Dr. Hooper?” Fred called from the front.

“Just drive, Fred!” Molly yelled before turning her attention back to Sherlock who had his lips pressed tightly together, fully aware now of the severity of his misstep.

She took a deep breath in through her nose and blew it out of her lips slowly to cool down before taking a seat next to him again and controlling her volume when finally going on.

“Sherlock, I thought-” She bit her lip, taking a moment to steady her voice. “I thought we were at a place where if things got bad you’d...you’d be able to come to me. I thought you knew that you always _always_ can.”

He looked a little deflated, no longer attempting to be snarky or flip with her.

“I did ask you to be here today, didn’t I?” he attempted quietly.

Molly shook her head. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You know that when I say I want to be there for you I mean that I want to be there to help prevent you from getting into a mess, not help you wallow in it.”

He squared his shoulders and began rolling his sleeves down again. “I’m hardly insisting that you approve of my methods.” 

“No, you’re just dragging me along. And that’s just as bad,” she countered, unwilling to be appeased. “Thinking that you can ask me to show up where and when you say and then treat me exactly as you please in the moment; disrespecting my feelings, not just as your friend but as a woman who you know-”

Molly halted mid sentence despite the way he watched her expectantly. She finally cleared her throat and met his eyes squarely, speaking calmly and clearly.

“This is admittedly not the bigger issue today but I’d like to be clear...you are not to flirt with me again, Sherlock, do you understand? High, sober, it doesn’t matter. It simply can’t happen again...ever.” She let out a single humorless laugh. “Unless of course you mean it, which we both know wouldn't be the case.”

There was a moment of pause as he stared back at her, then he swallowed and turned, looking straight ahead while his fingers drummed nervously on his knees.

“Understood,” he finally agreed softly. 

Molly nodded, somewhat comforted by the glimmer of sobriety in that one simple word. Though it was somewhat short lived.

“Ah good, we’re almost there,” Sherlock announced gleefully, glancing out the back windows of the ambulance a moment later. “Time to go and be Sherlock Holmes!”

Acting on impulse, she grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes when he turned in reaction to her touch.

“But you’re not being Sherlock Holmes,” Molly whispered. “Right now you’re being an entirely different man; a man who I don’t know and don’t really want to know.” 

Her voice broke as she finished speaking, and at that point she didn’t feel like trying to hide it. “I miss the real Sherlock Holmes. Would you tell him? If you see him.”

He seemed moved to some extent, blinking rapidly and opened and closed his mouth a couple times before actually answering.

“Not sure when I’ll see him again either,” Sherlock stated glumly. “Depends largely on how things go today.”

“Whatever it is, whatever you think you’re doing or accomplishing, can’t you just stop?” she pleaded. “I’ll help you, I’ll be there for you, I swear. I’ll help you do what’s needed in some other way. But please...just stop _this_.”

His expression hardened a little and the corners of his mouth turned down as if she were asking something of him that was painfully out of his reach. 

“I think you’ve thoroughly examined me by now, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Molly looked down, seeing him slip his hand out of hers. Her expression hardened then as well.

“Yes, I’d say I have all the information I need,” she replied coolly. 

She got up and grabbed his coat, shoving it at him and completing the final piece of what she’d agreed upon for that day, and thereby washing her hands of anything further in this whole mess. He took it, his hand touching hers again briefly, which caused the very slightest spark that jumped from her gaze to his. 

But a spark dies quickly if it’s not nurtured...and they both looked away.

Sherlock put his dressing gown back on for the time being and lay back on the gurney, holding his head as he dealt with what looked like a headache. Molly got up and sat on the small seat across from him, her arms crossed protectively over her middle as she sniffed away any remaining tears in her eyes.

The rest of the ride was silent as Molly mentally prepared herself to report to John when this blasted ambulance came to a stop. She glanced occasionally at Sherlock who was probably preparing himself for...God knows what, she could only imagine. At that point, she almost didn’t want to know.

By the time the ambulance stopped, she immediately threw the doors open and stepped out to sit on the steps, desperate for the cleansing fresh air and sunlight. She could only hope and pray, as she sat there, that the next time she saw the man she loved, he would be very different. Especially as he walked away from her a few minutes later, giving her a single backwards glance that spoke volumes too complex to fully decipher...she hoped. 

She hoped there would be a next time.


End file.
